Cages
by Hilarious Bread
Summary: The dysfunctional BLU Team has been falling apart, the Engineer noticed from just a few weeks in. Now, after spending a year with the same people, he has an even worse outlook on the situation. However, there may be one solution to turning it all around.
1. Prologue

The war had been luring. Each of the men that ended up there had been pulled in by some aspect of it. For some maybe it was the prospect of immortality, or for others to escape reality of their lives, and possibly, for a few, the craze and bloodlust the battlefield brought. Slowly they flowed into the opposing bases as they finished their trainings. Each found that of the classes they had been assigned, there was one. Two if you counted both teams, but it was not as if they would communicate. To meet with your mirror meant bloodshed, unconditionally and always. It was in the contract.

Everyone lived by it. Although there were not many rules, if you broke them, that was the end of you. No examples of anyone breaking the rules were ever told of, and that only added to the prickling fear.

Nobody was allowed to tell their real names or locations other than nationality. That was the first rule. It was also the loosest, although most of the mercenaries still only used their titles. Almost no one revealed anything about themselves, whether it being from paranoia or the cold feel of war.

Respawn would not be activated after ceasefire officially began. Power would not needlessly be wasted no matter the situation. Nobody had permission to study the machine either. No blueprints were left of the Respawn even with the possibility that it could break down.

Neither team went out of their own territory during ceasefire. If you were not killed by the opposing team, something much worse would be waiting for you, assured personally by The Administrator. All personnel were required present on the battlefield unless they spoke to the Administrator or head of their respective base. Getting permission for anything was not an easy task. After curfew, personnel were required in-base, but not necessarily in their quarters.

Vacations were chosen by the Administrator, if she was feeling generous. To prevent out of job killings, separate teams were let off at different times.

The better team usually got more favors.

The BLU Team never seemed to receive favors.

BLU Team knew that they were not the better team. The poster-boys had always been the RED Team. Advertising the war with colorful illustrations of blood and colored uniforms merged together. They were the underdogs, having only 8 mercenaries in the first place, the dirt under RED's feet. Holding on, but not by much. Some of them blamed it on the Administrator. Others saw through their own battered pride, seeking the true problem. It was obvious if you put it together. There were some small fights amongst each other, some big ones too. This wouldn't have been a problem if BLU was made up of people who generally got together.

This was the exact opposite.

It wasn't that the people of BLU were nasty to each other. Some were, but not all of them. It just seemed there was a brick wall between most of the members. Cold and silence masked the comrades of their worlds. People were there - people who may have been kind if a tiny step was made towards them – but a distance of a million miles still split them despite this.

The Engineer noticed most. He knew that he was who would notice that type of thing, too. He had tried the first couple days there attempting to interact with his teammates. Most were unwilling. So, instead of trying to fight two hopeless battles a day, he watched.

They had no Scout. The Engineer had seen one on the other team, who was hell during intelligence matches. Ran real fast, had a mouth just as quick. The Engineer was a bit happy they did not have a Scout.

The BLU Soldier was slightly less insane than the RED one, considering that he did not keep a collection of severed heads Respawn didn't pick up. He didn't seem to have any verbal connection to inanimate objects either, but instead muttered to himself frequently. He carried a pickaxe around when unsettled, and the rest of the team avoided him on those days. His helmet was also almost always covering his surprisingly bright blue eyes, and the Engineer wondered to himself how he managed to see out from under it. Despite the caution he took around the man, the Engineer found the Soldier's personality was a bit funny, sans his crazy and unpredictable nature.

The Pyromaniac was one of the more social, which slightly surprised the Engineer. He couldn't speak well from under his gasmask, which he never took off, but sometimes he wrote. Other times it was up to the listener to decipher what he had said. He was a vastly more mellow than most of the other members too, venturing out of his room frequently and joining whoever was around, whether it was to listen to the radio in the kitchen or watch the TV in the leisure room. He also went to see the Engineer while he worked in his workshop, which Engineer was happy about. Having company was a nice thing. Sometimes he would bring his flare gun or flamethrower with him to add a new layer of paint or clean them out with the various tools and substances the Engineer kept in his work-area. He was not afraid to interact with anyone it seemed, although he kept a caution around the Spy and Soldier. Neither had much tolerance. Pyro seemed to recognize this, along with the other moods of the team. He could tell when and when not to be communal.

The Demolitions Expert, or Demoman, was relatively friendly, but also usually drunk on whiskey. Despite this and the fact that he only had one eye, he still got his job done generally well. He could be social, but it his speaking usually slurred and it made it hard to figure out what he was saying. His writing was also incredibly messy and slanted. When he wasn't drunk or acting loopy he was a good storyteller and also nice to work with when creating new technology. He knew almost everything about bombs and explosives, at least Engineer thought. Then again, he wasn't in that field of study. The only downside of the Demo was that he had a prickly temper that sometimes would erupt out of nowhere, usually at the Soldier, which never ended well. The Soldier also had a temper similar to this, but while the Demo had an anger of an erupting volcano, the Soldier had one of the sun itself, and wouldn't let things go. The Demo didn't get caught up on the Soldier's lasting spite, though. Maybe he forgot the bad events even happened due to his drinking. The Engineer wasn't sure.

The Heavy Weapons Guy was frightening. Although he was more of the teddy bear type of big guy, Engineer couldn't help being intimidated by his load voice, Russian accent, and stature. He assumed most of team felt this way too, along with the most of RED. The only people he could think of who went out of their way to interact with him were the Pyro and Medic. Engineer felt a little bad for not attempting more than a polite tip of his hardhat towards the fella, but after seeing the temper he held within himself during battle he couldn't help being careful. He had a passion for sandwiches, the Engineer knew. Or all food in general, actually. Mostly sandwiches, though. Nobody touched the sandwich. Nobody. You were a dead man if you did, which he had made clear in his broken English on his first day at the base. The Soldier absolutely despised the Russian, tossing insults about communism at him, seemingly not taking into consideration that the Heavy could snap his neck without much effort. If he could, the Engineer usually tried to usher the Soldier away from the Heavy before things got ugly. On some occasions they did fight, but the Heavy did have some compassion in him somewhere, for he didn't put his whole being into it like he did on the battlefield. He was careful not to hurt anyone on his team, which the Engineer found as a relief.

The Medic and Heavy were close. Engineer wasn't sure how close, but it was pretty tight between them. They were always together on the battlefield. The Medic did not forget his duties however, and made it his top priority to assist his team. He was the sort of uptight all business type of guy, and took his job very seriously. Under his façade however, the Engineer saw the way the Medic smiled while ripping an enemy apart with his bonesaw. It was the crazed smile of a maniac. Soldier also had insults for the Medic about his heritage, hollering about Nazis and World Wars. The Engineer couldn't keep the creeping suspicions away when he thought of that smile. He still did not say anything, for the Medic did his job well and was generally polite, although sometimes he muttered in German what could be assumed as insults.

The Sniper was a flighty man, aloof yet when brought back to reality, stressed and slightly paranoid. His aviators hid tired eyes. Sniper didn't like spending time in the base regularly, usually staying out at his nest until curfew. What he did from there was randomized. Sometimes he would talk to the others, sometimes he would watch television, and sometimes he would brood over cold coffee, sitting at the table in the mess hall. He was eerily silent at times, and at others he would speak in a gruff voice to the Engineer. About the weather, or little snippets about their homes (despite the rules), or how they had been close to winning a match yesterday. His moods were also forever changing, like he had a slight essence to himself that affected the air around him. Some days he was slightly more hopeful and would do better during the round, others he was completely off his game and would end up in Respawn several times due to backstab. Despite this, he didn't stoop down to using jarate as a method in battle, even if it did mean more deaths on the battlefield. The Engineer was grateful, that stuff was downright nasty; just disgusting having piss thrown about out there.

And finally, there was the Spy. He was, like the Medic very professional, but almost never slipped up. He didn't hold the same passion of watching someone suffer like the RED Spy did, and made his jobs quick. Despite his skill on the battlefield, he was not social. He didn't participate in much outside of battles with the team, preferring to seal himself up in his room. Most of the team was cautious of him, and things were held against him that really were having to do with his RED counterpart. The Pyro seemed to like him (He liked pretty much everyone) but the Spy had the same problem with the firebug that everyone else had with the Spy himself, unable to get over his own despise of the BLU Pyro. The Soldier didn't like spies in general, indifferent to the color of uniform. The Sniper had obvious reasons to feel cautious. The Heavy and Medic didn't particularly fond of him either. Both backstabbed in a row one too many times. The Engineer himself was also cautious of him, especially when he slipped into the Engineer's workshop to request maintenance on his cloaking watch. They looked so much alike, the Engineer noticed. But they all did, in a way. It was different when the person could appear to be any one of your teammates.

Engineer saw the RED Team at times, going into their base after a victorious battle. They laugher and messed around with each other casually. The Engineer wished for something like that. Like a family. Something to represent the family he had left to earn the money at BLU. Unfortunately, the future did not seem to hold any hopeful vision of this type of life.


	2. Chapter 1

When HQ called there was always silence. Everything went quiet. The Team would silently stream in as they noticed and hover around whoever was speaking to BLU. It was always them, nobody else ever called.

The only problem with this was being sure the right person picked up the phone. Soldier was not good with phones; Engineer realized when he found the whole thing ripped out from its position on the wall. The wires were still intact, but the person on the other end, who was almost definitely HQ (victim to the Soldier's ranting), had long hung up. Pyro and Demo weren't much good either. Pyro always ventured to the phone, in case he had to pick up if nobody else came, but neither him nor the Demoman could be understood. The Sniper was a similar problem, he always mumbled while speaking, the nervousness seeping through his voice. Heavy with his broken English was sometimes understandable, but at other times he did not understand what was being said or the other way around. Medic and Spy were the best with the phone, and in general with HQ, but neither seemed exactly eager to speak with them.

Which left the Engineer. His southern drawl wasn't that bad, he thought. Still understandable. He didn't have the conniving charm of the Spy, or the formal negotiation skill of the Medic either. He didn't want to risk setting off his employers. So he didn't object.

It was early morning. Engineer was getting out a loaf of bread to make toast when the phone rang. He jumped, startled, whirling around to face the mass of technology covered in black plastic, eyebrows creased. Nobody else was in the mess. … Looks like he would have to take it.

He walked over to the buzzing telephone, and picked it up after a moment's hesitation. "Hello?"

"Hello." There was a pause. "This is the Engineer I assume?" A young voice spoke to him from the other reviver. Ms. Pauling, he was sure.

"Howdy, Miss."

"Oh, good. I've called to speak to you about the next shipment of supplies to the base. It's due to arrive in two days, if you have been keeping track of the patterns of BLU corporations recently."

"Yeah, I figured out the format to that a while ago." The Engineer rubbed the back of his neck a bit sheepishly. She was good at figuring people out. "What did ya want to tell me about it?"

"BLU Corporations has noticed that there has been an increasing decline in victories on their team, Mister Conagher." Her voice no longer held any friendliness, dissolving into complete seriousness. "If this keeps going, BLU will loose the war. I'm sure neither of us want this, Mister Conagher."

His throat suddenly felt dry, and he had a bit of trouble speaking. "No ma'am."

There was a small silence, and Miss Pauling began speaking again. "However, we do realize that this is not entirely your team's fault… The RED Team has had 9 members while yours has only 8." There was a ruffling of papers on the other line, and the Engineer shifted his weight to his other leg anxiously. "So," She continued, "we have decided to add another member to your team."

The Engineer let out a small sigh of relief, a slight smile coming to his face. No bad news. At least not yet.

"The final member of your team will be… Should I say, a handful? But very useful nonetheless. I am certain you already know which class he will be by using the process of elimination."

"When you said a handful you weren't kidding, Miss." He chucked a bit. "At least comparing to the RED Team…"

"Yes, I realize this. Having a pair of quick feet on the battlefield is important though, or at least that's what I've been told. Good luck, Engineer."

And the line went dead.

Spy woke up rather irritated, chatter echoing from outside his door. Usually during ceasefire everyone went off to do whatever they wanted, and the base was quiet. Unfortunately, this apparently was not the case at the moment. The thought crossed his mind that he shouldn't have picked a room near the kitchen, a frequent conclusion that he made upon being woken up.

He also should have made sure not to have a room anywhere near the Soldier. Lesson learned, if he ever got the chance to switch rooms the Spy would not make the same mistake.

He shifted with a deep breath to look at the door. The light blue walls of the room complemented the plain white desk and chair against it nicely; the Spy had to give HQ credit. Their choice of style always made it seem emptier however. Then again, it may merely seem that way because no one had a ton of possessions in the base besides the Medic and Engineer.

There were still voices in the hall. The Spy was not able to distinguish who it was, the walls and doors of the base being reinforced and thick, but he dismissed it as unimportant, turning back to face the wall. Small tallies lined across the surface, and he sighed inwardly at the sight of them. Part of him regretted keeping count of how many days he'd been there. How many were even on the wall? It would have been more graceful to place them on paper. It was not as if anyone went in his room, though. His eyes lingered on them. He probably wouldn't be able to get back to sleep. Since he was up he figured there was no harm in counting.

"… Un, deux, trios-"

The Spy's voice went quiet as the droning outside abruptly came to a stop, the tone of farewell in one of the voices. Turning once again, he found the motivation to get up as banging echoed on the door, accompanied by familiarly muffled speech.

"Sph!" the voice called, the knocking still persisting to the spook's dismay. Snatching his coat from off the back of the chair, he slipped it on and opened the door with an expectant gaze. The firebug seemed a little surprised at first, his fist halfway to knocking again, but quickly recovered. Almost immediately the hyperactive pyromaniac began jumbling off gibberish. "Sph! Meph mapht mephmeb mp-"

"_Pyromane_, unfortunately, like I tell you every time I speak with you, I cannot understand a word you're saying when you talk that quickly," he cut in with a slightly exasperated tone.

"Srhy!" Pyro responded, then pointing down the hall. He pointedly tired to pronounce each word carefully and slowly. "Mephneneef mph th ph th meh mheph."

They stared at each other blankly for a couple seconds before Pyro went to his last resort. Charades! He decided to enact eating soup, cupping one of his hands and pretending to hold a spoon with the other. He then proceeded to shovel his imaginary soupish substance into where his mouth would be visible.

"Go to the mess hall?" The Spy questioned, knotting his eyebrows. The Pyro nodded eagerly, pointing quickly to his left before running off to go find the Sniper. The Spy watched him go, still slightly annoyed about being woken, but did as the Pyromaniac instructed.

* * *

The Sniper was not expecting to have a heart attack this early in the morning, nor outside a battle. However, finding yourself staring into the soulless lenses of an unexpected gasmask can do that to you. He had been sitting in his camper van, feet up on the dash of the passenger seat, reading. His van was usually parked in BLU's garage, the quietest place in the base, and indeed was eerily quiet when the Pyro came up to the passenger side, tapped on the closed window, and proceeded to scare the crap out of his teammate.

The Sniper, who had fallen off the seat, tipped up his hat to stare at the Pyro with a look of surprise. Pyro looked about equally as shocked with the event (and maybe a bit amused), pressing his gasmask against the glass with curiosity.

"Srhy, Snphr…!" He the muffled voice was even harder to understand from behind the door.

"It's fine, mate. Step back, I'm going to open the door."

The Pyro disappeared from the window, and the Sniper opened the van, clambering out. He mumbled to the Pyro as he stretched out his back, carelessly tossing the book back into the camper van. "What's goin' on, mate?"

The Pyro motioned for him to follow, and Sniper obliged. They made their way into the heart of the base. "Where're we goin', Firebug?"

"Mp fph mspp mphl!" The shorter team member answered through the mask.

The Sniper nodded his head in response, even though he had no idea what the blazer had said.

The Sniper looked around. They had entered the mess hall, the rest of the team already seated, some silent and others conversing casually. Engineer was the only one standing. The Sniper assumed he was the one who had called the meeting. Pyro went to sit next to the Demoman at a table, the Medic to his left; he watched the engineer expectantly through his back lenses. That left the Sniper a spot next to the Soldier. He sighed inwardly and took his place.

The conversations died away with the joining of the Pyro and Sniper, and everyone stared at the Engineer expectantly. As the silence continued, he shifted nervously under their gaze.

"Come on, Truckie, what've you got for us?" The Soldier finally broke the interlude, calling out unnecessarily loudly from the farthest seat away. Engineer swallowed.

"Well, pardners, we've got good news from BLU corporations." He paused, looking over the other 7 men. He decided not to elongate the suspense. "We're finally gettin' our 9th member. Two days time."

Chatter instantly arose. The team members looked at each other from across the table, their attention almost instantly voided from the Engineer.

"_Now_ they decided to give us the last member?"

"Ha…! We've been doin' fine on our own against those wee lassies…"

"Da! RED is babies."

"You're joking. We haven't won a match in a couple days!"

The Engineer slouched a bit, watching the rest of his team fold into the table to argue. "We've all been a team for a long time, and despite our differences we've been… generally cooperative. I'm sure we can get along with this somehow."

The Medic sighed with exasperation, and the attention of the room was suddenly on him. "This is already chaotic enough with the 8 of us. Not to mention the class out last recruit will be, ja, Herr Engineer?"

Glances were exchanged.

"Bloody Hell, he's a Scout, isn't he?" The Sniper moaned, collapsing onto the table dramatically. The Spy rolled his eyes. Sniper's muffled speech continued drearily. "The other one's enough of a pain in the ass."

"Not any other option, lad… Unless they decided to double up a class," the Demoman slurred.

"Nope, you're right," The Engineer rubbed the side of his arm nervously. "He's a Scout. I reckon we shouldn't jump the gun and assume he'll be like the RED's though."

The Engineer looked around the table for a response, which had fallen into thoughtful silence.

"I guess it's settled then, pardners. The next supply train's in two days, and that's when he'll be comin' in," He concluded when nobody said anything.

"Very vell." The Medic growled sourly, standing. "Hopefully he vill not be as much of a nuisance." With that being said, he exit, and as if on cue the rest of the room went into motion. The majority of the team left the room, going back to whatever they had been doing.

The Engineer and the Pyro were the last to leave.

"Thanks for helpin' me get every one round up, pardner." The Engineer tipped his helmet to the pyromaniac, smiling graciously.

Pyro responded with a nod, and what seemed like happy mumbling. "Mhn mhy mhum mhu pha mphmam mphm mhu?"

"Er, didn't quite catch that."

"Chgm, chgm, chgm, Chuhhh Chuhhh!" The Pyro enacted pulling an imaginary truck horn… or was it a whistle?

"Train? You want to go along to the train station," the Engineer rubbed his chin thoughtfully. This was met with fierce nodding. Engineer smiled a bit. "Well, alrighty then, that's fine by me."

Engineer looked over his shoulder. There was complete silence looming over the corridors, emptiness in the white halls. "Ya' know, I wish this place was a bit more… Lively. But that's just me."

The Pyro stared at the Engineer with his glassy lenses, and nodded again.

The pair parted ways, retreating to their rooms and escaping the empty white hallways.


	3. Chapter 2

In the Pyro's opinion the two days waiting for the supply train flew by. Despite the fact that not much activity occurred in the base during ceasefire, he dug up a few of his most treasured comics and spent the days reading. Fireplay was unfortunately not allowed in the base, and it was usually really dusty outside, a pain to get off his suit.

Two days after the supplies train comes, the ceasefire ends, the pyro knew. How would the new member do? How would his personality be? He was curious. The Pyro didn't really like the other Scout that much. Then again, he didn't like the RED much at all. He liked burning them! But that's another thing entirely.

The Pyro trotted down the empty hallways. Nobody would be up at this time; his internal clock told him that is was around three. Pyro didn't mind, though. There was plenty of stuff to do around the base. Pyro looked around, and finally decided to enter the living room.

Despite the name, not many people came here. The TV in the center of the room didn't connect to actual channels, but there was a pile of movies next to the boxy machine. Despite there being a couch and several chairs in the area, Pyro preferred the floor. He kneeled next to the movie stack, sifting though the choices. He's seen all of them. He wondered if the Scout would bring movies. Not that the Scout would know of the Pyro's predicament in movie choices. The Pyro sighed; the Scout bringing movies was highly unlikely. Oh well.

He stood up; the drab selection of movies was making him feel a bit pessimistic. Wandering out of the room, he continued down the hallway. He passed the Demo's room, hearing snoring from inside, and proceeded past the Soldier's. He paused slightly, staring. The Soldier was usually the first one up after Pyro, but it would still be a little while before he woke. The Pyro shrugged, continuing on. To the Pyro's right there was the mess. The Pyro peaked in hopefully, but currently it was empty. Okay. Moving on.

The Spy's room was a little bit further down the hall, where the corridor turns right; a corner. It was always quiet around here. The Pyro personally thought it was sort of nice. It wasn't like the hollowness of the rest of the base, it just felt calm. The Pyro liked the corners of rooms; they were easy places to sit by and be unnoticed. Or ambush someone; that's a good reason to like corners too.

Turning, he continued down the hall. The Heavy's room was first to pass. There was slight snoring coming from this one too. Heavy usually helped Pyro make breakfast on Sundays! It was very fun, the Pyro thought, and it seemed to encourage the base to have a happy aura around it. The Pyro liked Sundays the best out of the rest of the week.

Engineers room was next to Heavy's, although he probably wasn't there. Engineer was known to fall asleep in his workshop a lot. The door was slightly ajar. He contemplated looking in, but that would be rude. Instead he shut the door. The workshop was down the next hall, accompanied by the infirmary on one side and the Respawn machine's room on the other.

Next to the Engineer's room was his room! There was a corner here too. The Pyro had decorated the door with paint the Engineer let him use. The yellow-orange flames looked magnificent on top of the blue door. Pyro opened up his room, entering. His Backburner and Flaregun rested on the top of his desk, the Axtinguisher positioned leaning against one of the legs. There were paintings of firebirds and flames on the walls, which the Pyro observed with wonder. He was especially proud of these. An unlit candle was positioned on the desk, a couple more in the drawer. The rest of the room was pretty much normal. His bed was across from the door against the wall, the floor void of anything. Content with his art gazing, Pyro exit the room.

He went down the third hall, passing the Medic's room and the infirmary across from that. He usually didn't fall asleep at his workstation, but there have been a couple occasions where he has fallen asleep in the infirmary, like the situation with the Engineer. The Pyro admired the two's dedication.

An Empty room was next to the Medic's room, and across from that was the said workshop. The door was usually open, and today it was. Pyro looking into the room, noticing the Engineer sleeping soundly slouched over his work. Yep.

Finally, at the end of the hall was the Sniper's room, which went unused during ceasefire, he would not be in there. The garage door was adjacent to the Sniper's door, and he usually slept in his van when he had the choice. Not wanting to open the squeaky garage door, the Pyro turned down the last hallway. The Sniper was a light sleeper anyway.

The Respawn machine was directly around the corner. The door into the Respawn room was always locked; it was enforced by a code, unlike most of the other rooms in the base. Only the Engineer had the code to that room. The Pyro hadn't even looked upon the machine that kept him alive for the length of the matches.

Next to that there was the supply room. All the extra weapons were in there, along with the regular shipments.

A doorway next to that led into the basement, where the majority of extra scrap metal and other supplies went. There was also a door down there that exit into the sewers, and a deep, rectangular concrete hole that Pyro assumed would be a pool if it worked. All the electrical problems and pipes were managed down there.

At the end of the hall there was the door into the living room, where Pyro had been before. In the middle of this hallway was the entrance to the base. The Pyro stopped walking and looked around. What shall he do?


	4. Chapter 3

The Engineer woke up collapsed over the blueprints he had been working on the night before. This was a pretty constant problem, and he had learned from past mistakes to avoid using pen- the writing utensil easily smeared. Pushing himself up, the Engineer tipped up his hardhat, looking around his workstation. After concluding everything looked in order, he replaced his goggles over his eyes and exit, closing the door behind him with a stretch. His back cracked a bit. "Yowch."

Turning left he made his way towards the mess. He reckoned it was around 6. The train would come around 9 or 9:30. As he continued down the hall he saw the Medic entering the infirmary. "Mornin', Doc."

"Guten morgen, Herr Engineer." Medic responded, turning towards the hardhat.

"Goin' to work so early? No disrespect, but it is ceasefire, Doc." The Engineer chuckled a bit.

"Have you forgotten? The Scout is coming today, _Herr Ingenieur_." He responded, "I have much to do."

The Engineer grunted in response. "He's not gonna like that übercharge stuff one bit, is he Doc?"

"_Nein. Nein, er ist nicht_." The doctor turned away into the infirmary, sighing slightly. The Texan didn't exactly catch all of that, but with all the languages flying around the base he had learned to infer mostly from the tones. Guessing the doctor agreed, Engineer left him to do his work, continuing down the hall and towards the mess. Breakfast sounded nice.

Unfortunately, he wasn't the fist one there. The Pyro stood at the stove, like the usual, burning a pan of eggs. He jumped at the Engineer's enterance, "Mh! Phmeppm." The firebug sheepishly tried to block the Engineer's view of the mess he had made.

"Mornin'," he replied with a sigh, "you really should at least _try_ not to burn everythin', pyro."

He objected with a muffled outburst, "Mh ehhgs aph pherpfect!"

"If ya say so." The Engineer chuckled slightly, pulling out bread for toast. There was a slight silence before he spoke up again. "Well, we're getting The Scout today. I reckon you remember that, though?"

The Pyro looked over his shoulder, still messing with the eggs, to reply. He nodded fiercely. "Mmhm!"

"Don't remind me," a patch of air near the tables interrupted tiredly. At first the Engineer peered around trying to find the source of the voice, before realizing what was happening.

"You don't gotta cloak in your own base, Spy." He turned back to the toaster, repeatedly trying to get the lever to stay down. "Darn it, bet you five bucks Soldier broke this thing."

"It's merely a preference," The Spy replied with a murmur, uncloaking at the Engineer's indirect request. "and you're right, he did. You just missed him; he gave up a few minutes ago."

The Pyro nodded in agreement observing his about-charred breakfast. With satisfaction, the firebug dumped the blackened mess onto his plate. The Engineer growled a bit under his breath, throwing his bread onto the Pyro's pan. He hoped the fire detector wouldn't go off this early in the morning.

The already smoky atmosphere mas bothering his nose enough when he smelt the distinct scent obscure from burning food. Frowning intensely he turned to the Spy, noticing the Pyro now sitting across from him. That wasn't the problem, though, the Spy had decided to take a smoke indoors.

"Spy, put that darn thing out." The Engineer tried not to snarl at the Frenchman, but it was hard not to.

There was a small silence as the Spy took a drag, exhaling a ring of smoke. The Pyro watched with fascination. "Why?" He answered casually, "It already smells like smoke." The Spy knew the answer, and the Engineer was aware. The Spy was merely spiting him.

"Do you even know what that does to your lungs, ya Spook? Put it out." He growled in response to the rare account of the Spy's sly side.

The Spy snorted a bit, amused, before snuffing out the cigarette on the table and rising from his position. "Very well, _Ingénieur_." With a ripple of blue the Spy disappeared, apparently getting the reaction he had been anticipating. The Spy's steps faded outside the doorway. The Engineer eyed the empty air for a bit before returning to his dysfunctional pan-toast.

"What a pain..." He muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

The Pyro grunted in response, forking his eggs for a bit. He wasn't going to eat them in the open, he was only offering company. The Pyro shrugged, getting up too, and retreating towards his room.

"We leave 'round eleven." The Texan announced, the firebug mumbling in response as he ventured out the door. Staring at his toast, he noticed it didn't look very appetizing. Not being the best cook, he was starting to burn it, and different parts of the bread were more charred than the others. Ditching the effort, he tossed the food in the trash before withdrawing to his workshop.

The Sniper didn't know how, but the Pyro had somehow guilted him into coming to meet the Scout. _They're just lenses_, he had told himself as the Pyro gazed up at him with a gasmask that shouldn't be able to look as pleading as puppy dog eyes. But it did.

So there he was, sitting exasperatedly in shotgun of the Engineer's truck, the Pyro perched between the two.

"Erm," The Sniper had asked before they left, trying to get out of the trip to the train, "where's the Scout gonna sit, mate?"

"Pyro wanted to show him the place from the back of the pickup." The Engineer had thrown his hand back, thumbing towards the bed of the pickup truck. Sighing inwardly, the Sniper accepted his fate.

Not that it wasn't enjoyable spending time with a few of his mates. The Engineer and Pyro were recognizably on the more social side, making up for his own quiet demeanor. It was good to just sit back and take a long ride sometimes, even if it wasn't his own camper.

It actually didn't take very long to get there, not that he had been to the station much. As soon as the truck stopped the Pyro was shoving him out the door and into the midday heat of Dustbowl's desert. "Croikey," He grumbled, tipping down his hat. The Pyro seemed unaffected under his suit.

Turning off the ignition, the Engineer joined them. "Well," He said simply, "all there's left to do is wait."

* * *

A young man watched out the window idly as the scenery went by. It had started in the city he called home, passing through forests and lakeside views, and now breaching the edge of a desert. Blinking, frowned a bit. Sand, socks, and running shoes didn't go well together. Kicking his feet up onto the seat across from him, he folded his hands behind his head causally.

He felt as if he'd been waiting forever to get off the rickety train, but he had to admit coming all the way from Boston to someplace in a desert didn't exactly mean a short ride. A bag of his belongings rested on the seat next to him as he made every effort to get comfortable. He was the only one on the train anyway, at least riding in the compartments.

Or, that's what he thought. The door to his left suddenly opened, and as he whipped his head towards the noise, a short lady with sleek, black hair stepped out of the adjacent compartment, holding a clipboard and some other papers. She blinked at him coolly, adjusting her glasses. "The Scout, I assume?" She said, taking a step towards the seat opposite of him. He quickly put his feet down. "Miss Pauling, assistant of Builders League United." She took a seat, glancing to the papers.

"Yeah, that's me, lady." He smiled slightly. "Yo, what time do ya have to be back in heaven, toots?"

She rolled her eyes. "Please realize that this is strictly business." He snorted a bit in response. Flipping through the clipboard, she looked through the information. "Mm, everything seems in order." Looking out the window towards the expanding desert, she continued speaking. In the distance, several buildings surrounded with fencing came into view. "Welcome to Dustbowl. It's usually quite warm, and sandy, but you'll get used to it."

The Scout peered at the establishment on the horizon as she proceeded. "You will be working with eight other teammates, and depending on the type of match you will be aiming towards different goals. I highly suggest trying to get along with them. The Respawn machine will prevent your death once you are securely introduced to the system, which should be sometime tonight. The first battle will be in two days, but it would be best to get used to your weapons and possibly your teammates' weapons before that."

He nodded dismissively. "Yeah, yeah, I get it. Go with the flow and that kinda stuff." He turned back to her questionably. "Yo, who had the bright idea of putting a battlefield in a freaking desert?"

She scoffed amusedly at him, standing up. "Someone who wanted to be entertained, of course." And with that she left the room, leaving the Scout once again to his own thoughts.


	5. Chapter 4

By the time the train arrived, the trio of mercenaries had sprawled out on top of the hood of the pickup truck, accustomed with drowsiness similar to that of desert lizards. The heat just did that to you- Wavering warmth interrupted only by a quiet breeze made for a relaxing setting.

The hum of the truck's radio was suddenly cut short by a thundering in the distance; the echoing noise increasing with the vast speed of the machine. The Pyro jumped off the hood excitedly, looking down the tracks. On the horizon, a train, shining blue, made its way towards them. The firebug turned back to the truck, jittering with exhilaration.

"Don't get too excited, mate," the Sniper responded to his static behavior, "Ya haven't even met the bloke." Sliding off the metal top, he dropped into the sandy dirt to join his teammate. He shook his head doubtfully as the Engineer followed suit. "Could be just as bad as the other one, and likely he is if you ask me."

The Pyro mumbled something incoherently to the Sniper over his shoulder, disregarding the Bushman's opinion and turning back to the tracks.

They all gathered somewhat charily towards the train station's platform. With the screeching of metal on metal the train finally came to a slow stop. The three gave a slight glance to each other before directing their attentive gazes back to the unopened machine's doors.

At last the door finally unfastened, swinging open as a boy around his middle or late teens came jumping out of the exit, backpack in suit. "Yo! Man, that was the most boring thing I've done all week!" He announced loudly, dropping off the train and kicking up a bit of dirt as he came to a stop. Like the rest of the team, he was wearing blue themed clothes, also attired in a uniform similar to his RED counterpart's. Hand bandages and all. With a smile, oblivious to the bewildered stares of his new teammates, he adjusted his pack, swinging it more suitably onto his shoulders.

The Sniper stared, eyebrows creased in perplexed observing. The Scout didn't just share the uniform of his counterpart, his voice held the same accent within it too. The energetic demeanor already radiating off of the boy was a massive change from the quiet fortress the three had just parted from. He hadn't even recoiled at the sight of the Pyro's gasmask, for God's sake.

The Sniper's thought process was cut short as a second figure stepped off the train in a more controlled fashion. "Good Afternoon," Miss Pauling began, giving the Scout a collected stare before turning to the rest of the group. "Engineer, the supplies is in the same freight car as always. Besides the Scout's arrival, there's no other news the team needs to be aware of."

"Thank ya kindly, Miss." He nodded thankfully, and then looked to the Scout. "Howdy, and welcome to Dustbowl."

The Sniper sniffed, motioning to the expanse of dull sand. "'Bout as borin' as a watching paint dry."

"Mph!" The Pyro mumbled, disagreeing, "Bpttpls mrp phn."

"Uh. What?" The Scout creased his eyebrows slightly, confused with the Pyro's speech.

"He said the battles are fun." Engineer translated. "That's Sniper," he motioned a thumb to the Aussie, who tipped his hat. "And that's Pyro." The Pyro waved in response. "As Miss Pauling mentioned, I'm the Engineer."

"Wicked." He grinned. He seemed about as excited about his arrival as the restless Pyro, who watched the new recruit curiously through the dark lenses.

Miss Pauling looked them over before nodding and making her way back onto the train. All seemed in order.

"Well, let's get this together already, it's bloody scorching out here." The Sniper said pointedly, making his way down the cargo line.

* * *

As a collective unit, they loaded up the crates generally quickly, although neither the Scout nor the Sniper could carry much weight. Finally, they were heading back to the base and out of the heat, sweaty and tired. The Engineer and Sniper took refuge in the truck, Pyro and Scout seating themselves in the back, on top of the precious cargo.

The truck lurched to a start, the train leaving the desert in a cloud of dust. A cool breeze finally came into being with the velocity of the vehicle.

"So, you're the Pyro then?" The Scout asked, looking up from observing the text stamped on the crates. The Pyro, who had decided to mess with his lighter, snapped into attention. He nodded eagerly, offering out his lighter. The Scout took it, looking at the orange paint smeared artistically over the sides like licking flames. "Hey, this is pretty good."

The Pyro mumbled from under his mask happily, accepting the lighter back from the scout.

"Do you always wear that around?" He tilted his head slightly.

The firebug turned his deep black lenses to the Scout. "Mhm."

"Huh." They watched the dunes kick up behind the spinning tires in content silence.

* * *

It didn't take much time to get back to the base. The Pyro poked the Scout in the shoulder, kneeling over the top of the truck to point out the incoming base. On the horizon, quiet buildings rested, distorted with the cover of heat waves. They both perched eagerly, leaning on the hood to get a better view of the scene. The bases were spaced a generous distance apart, and as they got closer the Scout noticed wired fencing and rock formations bordering the battlefield in.

The truck pulled in through a matching wire fence, the Scout's eyes taking in his surroundings with wonder. The wooden planked buildings were a lot different than in the city. Everything was unpainted and natural, hard packed dirt from hours of trampling boot soles.

A large platform of metal glowed slightly as the truck passed it, a BLU symbol projecting from the center. As the vehicle rolled to a stop, the Pyro jumped off, motioning for him to follow. The Scout scooted off the side of the crates, staring at the supposed entry to the base.

The wooden opening had the attractiveness of a rickety old mineshaft.

* * *

_Sorry, this one's kind of short. I was trying to get something together for you patient people since I've been slacking a bit. Thank you for the support and also the critiques, which are always welcome, I wish to improve and your help is appreciated. Now I think I'll go curl up in bed and prepare for another Monday. _


	6. Chapter 5

The Scout stared at the entrance, confused and vaguely let down. "That's it? The base is pretty much an abandoned cave?" He peered in, his eyes drawing in warm sources of light and the gleam of a metal cabinet. Dust-covered stairs led down into the bowls of the base, although all that was visible was a fragment of the dirt cavern below. Frankly, he was a bit cautious to enter at all.

"Nah, mate. That's just the outside." The Australian came up over his shoulder, nonchalantly strolling past him and down through the entryway. He stopped at the bottom, glancing around before clicking his tongue and moving on. He knocked on the side of the metal container before walking out of view from the surface. The Sniper's voice gave a small echo from under them. "Just setup for battles down here."

"We can bring this in later," The Engineer motioned to the crates before descending down the steps himself. "I reckon you want to take a look around." The Scout couldn't imagine what else there could possibly be to look at. The whole place looked like dirt walls wooden panel. Despite this, the Pyro motioned enthusiastically for him to follow, bounding down into the base's depths to supposedly catch up with the Sniper. The Scout followed suit, following the Engineer closely as he advanced over the creaking wooden steps.

"How old is this place?" They stood in a relatively large dugout room. Abandoned railway tracks meandered around parts of the dirt floor, wooden signs with arrows on them directing the reader to 'Control Points.' The Scout could already feel edgy dust fragments seeping into his running shoes.

"This part, I would think is relatively old." The Engineer judged, looking at the walls, which were slightly crumbling with age. Lanterns nestled in some of the corners completed the lingering mineshaft feeling.

"Part?" A hint of curiosity sparked in the Scout's voice. Unexplored caverns would surely prove entertaining, especially if there were some unmined ores lying around. Not that he was necessarily experienced in that line of work, but it didn't seem there would be much to do in the dusty basin anyway. Maybe the Pyro would be willing to tag along for adventuring.

"You'll see." He replied simply, smiling a bit.

The group turned down a reasonably wide tunnel, following after the Aussie. What the Scout had been expected were rooms like that of in a bomb-shelter bunker, judging upon the front of the base. As he followed on, he realized he had been entirely wrong. The grimy ground sifted away into clean tiled flooring save a couple copper shoeprints, the walls taking a similar liking to clean white plaster. It was as if he had stepping into a whole different place in the mere span of feet. A metal door rested at the end of the underpass, decorated with a keypad and a sleek handle. The messy dust of the desert area had melted away into refined modernity.

The Scout blinked in surprise. "Oh." The Sniper typed in a four-digit code and pulled the handle; it clicked open to reveal an equally neat hallway, a single stripe of blue expanding towards the end of the hallway.

"It's 9-4-7-1. Everyone on the team gets to know it." The Sniper murmured, stepping in the door and out of the way of the others. "You better not blab it to RED though," He added pointedly, sharp eyes meeting the Scout's blue ones.

The Scout nodded as he passed the Bushman, peering past the Engineer and the Pyro. There were two hallways, one that went left and one that went right. To the right there was a pair of doors, the rest of the hall being void of room entrances. He could vaguely hear someone muttering down one of the halls, and a language he didn't recognize.

The Engineer turned to the right-sided hallway and towards the closest door lined against the wall. He motioned to it slightly, but proceeded as he explained the setup. "Here we have the storage, that's where we'll have ta bring in the supplies later," continuing to the next door, he stopped, gesturing to the keypaded doorway. "This is the Respawn machine's chamber. Ya know about the Respawn, right?"

"Yeah, comin' back to life and stuff. It was in the letter." He shrugged, indifferent to the thought a machine keeping him from dying.

"Yeah. It's always locked; don't bother tryin' ta go in there, son."

With that out of the way, the small group turned the corner, almost crashing into a black, seemingly drunk Scottish Cyclops. He seemed as surprised as the Engineer, who had jumped, startled; the Scotsman lost his balance and half-ran half-fell into the wall. The Scout couldn't help smiling a bit at the funny display, thinking that the stranger had possibly passed out mid-step. This was not the case.

Surprise quickly turned into intoxicated giddiness as the eye patch-donning man cracked up, lifting his head and toasting his bottle up. "Ye scared me 'alf ta death," he slurred incoherently.

The Pyro approached the drunk happily, mumbling equally unclear from under the gasmask. He held out a gloved hand to the collapsed man, which was taken gratefully.

"This is the Demolitions Expert." The Engineer said as the man stood.

"The bloke's usually drunk," the Sniper mumbled to the Scout, careful not to raise his voice too loud. Nobody else seemed to take notice thankfully.

"Hi." The Scout's slight smile still stuck to his face. The Scout hadn't seen anything like these types of people before, especially not in the smaller outskirt of the city he had lived in. Travelers usually didn't take the time to venture out away from inner Boston.

"So there's really one a ye Scouts after all," he commented, turning around and stumbling again as he retraced his way back down the hall. "Ye can jus' call me the Demoman, e'eryone else does."

Glancing slightly at the rest of the group, the Scout followed after the Demoman. The thudding of shoes accompanied the growing unit as they moved through the halls. The Engineer showed the new recruit the door into the garage, the Sniper's room that neighbored it, and finally the door in the middle of the second hallway, in which he would be staying.

The silvery doorknob turned easily, and the Scout stepped into a room painted blue and white. A simple bed and table were positioned against the walls, but most of the living space was void. Dropping his stuff on the floor for later, gladly dashing back to continue the exploration.

* * *

Lazy author is lazy. Sorry, I really hate beginning stories.

Thanks to those who have been reviewing.


	7. Chapter 6

The rest of the base had similar layout, save the basement and sewers down near he basement. Luckily, the Scout was almost sure he wouldn't be getting lost an time soon, at least off the battle field. The group of five ended up not running into anyone else throughout the tour, but the Engineer mentioned the other four and their class names. It still seemed sort of alien to talk to someone with a title instead of a name, especially when you didn't know what they looked like. The Scout could only guess what hey looked like. After seeing the Demoman he wasn't so sure about anything he could think up though.

The Sniper and Demoman added in comments to the Engineer's descriptions of their personalities, usually about their... more negative traits.

The five had finally decided to sit down at one of the tables in the mess after the long trek around.

"The Soldier's real fiery," The Engineer mused to the Scout, Pyro perking up a the mention of the choice adjective. "Followin' him around the battlefield for the first few days might do some good for ya." He sipped a beer idly, leaning slightly on the tabletop.

Sniper snorted a bit, turning to the Texan and throwing his own opinion in. "I wouldn't follow the Soldier if my life depended on it, Mate." The Demo laughed drunkly at the comment, catching the irony. "If you're following the Soldier, you're pretty much askin' for an ear-poppin' lecture." The Engineer frowned a bit disapprovingly at this comment.

"What, does the guy tell ya off a ton?" The Scout prodded to the Sniper, who readily complied with continuing.

"The guy's a real nutcase. Couple of screws loose, if ya ask me. In fac-"

"He tells jus' about e'eryone off, Laddie." The Demoman slurred, cutting off the Sniper. "Yells like a banshee too."

"Alright, alright, that's enough," The Engineer interupted, plainly irritated. "The point is I'm guessing you haven't been around rage of war, and rage and war are definitely the Soldier's... 'forte.'"

The Scout looked a bit weary of accepting the offer, taking both party's opinions into account. "Uh, I guess. I'll think about it." There was a slight pause, within the Scout began tapping his feet jitterily. "Man, where is everyone? I thought there would be more people around."

"There's only nine people, Laddie, 'ere's five of 'em!" The Demoman swung his arms out as if presenting a beautiful scene laid out in from of him, but instead succeeded in smacking the Sniper in the face and falling backwards off his chair. The Pyro let out a muffled laugh with the display of events. None of them bothered helping the Demoman up, as he made no effort to move from his position on the tile.

As the Sniper cradled his nose in his palms, the Engineer continued the conversation, waving the two chaotic mercenaries away half-heartedly. "There's the Soldier, Spy, Medic and Heavy Weapons Guy."

"Ye can jus' call'em 'Heavy,'" The Scotsman chuckled bubbly from the floor. The Australian hid a slight smile under his hands, seeing where the drunk was going. "After all, it suits'em!"

The Engineer seemed to loose all hope in humanity, slapping his hand to his forehead.

The Scout looked the two chuckle-nuts over. They didn't look like they were giving advice, more-so gossiping and joking around as the Scotsman keeled over with laughter. He tightened his lips slightly, turning to the Engineer. "So what's the gist with the Heavy Weapons Guy?"

He looked up slightly, sighing a bit. "Well, I don't know him all that well myself, but he ain't someone you should be afraid of. He's a teddy bear type of guy. Just don't try and get him angry and you'll be fine. Oh, and whatever you do, don't touch the sandwich in the fridge." There was a slightly awkward pause where the Scout stared at him skeptically. "Trust me."

"... Okay, I'll trust ya. What about the Medic?" The Scout blinked alertly.

"Real levelheaded most of the time. He's a nice helpin' hand around here with the BLU Corporations when he wants to be. Intelligent too. Pretty much a man of his work."

"And when he's not levelheaded, he's raving mad." The Sniper muttered, scowling a bit. Seeing that his hand had come away from his nose bloody, he stood. "Speaking of the quack, I'm gonna go see if he can fix my nose. Almost sure it's broken." And with that, the Sniper strolled from the room. The Demoman seemed to be passed out on the floor by then, the Engineer observed as he turned his head slightly. The Pyro was leaning from his own chair, poking the Demoman's leg.

"Then, of course there's the Spy. None of us know him too well, or at least I wouldn't expect so. Real withdrawn most of the time, but not really in a shy way. More like he doesn't give a darn about anythin' going on around here. Sniper doesn't like him too much." The Texan rubbed the back of his neck a bit tiredly. "Just try not ta annoy anyone, most of 'em didn't seem very enthusiastic that we were gettin' a Scout."

The younger boy nodded slightly, tipping his baseball hat up slightly. "So, what am I supposed to do? Where should I practice shooting? When's the first battle?"

The southerner smiled a bit, chuckling. "Yer getting ahead of yourself. First thing's first, you should go see the Medic. Make sure Respawn's got you in the system and that kind of stuff. He has the equipment for that. Pyro can take ya if you forgot which hallway it's down."

"Nah, I think I got it." He said, standing up. The Pyro jumped up excitedly, eager to go along with the Scout anyway. He blinked in response, shrugging slightly as the Pyro mumbled to him. "Uh, yeah. Sure, come a long I guess." They exit with a slight wave towards the Engineer and passed out Demoman, the Pyro bounding after the new member of the team.

The Engineer stared blankly at the doorway for a couple of seconds before turning to the passed out Demoman, ignoring the fact that he was asleep on the floor. "Well, that went better than expected."

* * *

(Apologies for a late/short chapter and any mistakes in this. It's like 1 am here and I really just wanted to get this done.)


End file.
